Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross by B.L. Newport Page B

smiling waiter moved from his
place and immediately set to preparing her a fresh beverage in a
paper cup. The sight of his actions made her wonder momentarily
whether paper cups could actually exist in the spirit world or if
this, like everything else she had encountered so far, was just a
twist on what she used to know as reality. There was so much she
was still getting used to, still attempting to take in as a form of
the new reality she now faced. As she took some new facet of the
spirit world, there was something of her mortal life she had to
morph into fitting or totally let go as no longer relevant. It had
only been two weeks since her passing. She could only imagine what
her reality would be like as time continued to pass.
    Brigit hoped that, one day, she would be as
knowledgeable as John appeared to be. She hoped that she would gain
his patience but not his sense of humor. From what she had observed
of him, he seemed to lack a sense of humor. She had loved to be
able to laugh about things – especially with Maggie. Laughter
healed her soul. She couldn’t lose that, especially since she only
lived within her soul now.
    Brigit nodded her thanks to Giuseppe and slid
from her seat at the counter to follow John. A silent smile was all
she received aside from the coffee to-go. The paper cup containing
the coffee was warm in the palm of her hand as she walked to the
door. It was a feeling that caused her to think of Maggie
momentarily and she smiled. Her sight settled briefly on the old
man with the sad blue eyes as she passed toward the door.
Somewhere, Brigit guessed, he had lost his reason to laugh and heal
his soul.

9: Organizing the Organization

    Brigit followed John back to the office in
silence. She waited patiently as he unlocked the main door and
opened it, wondering why he would even need to lock the door to
begin with. The address was a phantom address. She was sure there
was no chance of someone entering the building by accident. As they
entered the main entrance, she said as much.
    “Actually, you’re wrong,” John told her.
“There have been a few occasions in the past where a ‘gifted’
mortal has found the place and entered. Araxius considered it a
security breach and, after the third ‘incident’, demanded that the
main entrance be locked when there were no Reapers present to
ensure the safety of the firm’s data.”
    “What do you mean by ‘gifted’?” Brigit asked
as John walked a few paces ahead of her and stopped at a door to
his left. He searched the key ring still in his hand for the key
that fit that particular lock.
    “Clairvoyants, Witches, people who easily and
naturally walk between the two realms. Contrary to popular belief,
such mortals do exist. Aleister Crowley once entered the offices in
Britain and I heard tale that Araxius had a devil of a time getting
him to leave. After a week of his lurking on the sidewalk, Araxius
had to close the office in London and relocate it to Dublin. That’s
where I came on,” John explained. Brigit noted there was a note of
amusement in the telling of the story. Perhaps John Blackwick did
possess a sense of humor after all.
    “So, you’re Irish?”
    “Aye, lass,” John replied as he fit the last
key on the ring into the lock and turned it. He looked at Brigit
and smiled. There was a gleam in his eye that Brigit had not yet
seen since making his acquaintance. He had relaxed his accent and
she could tell without further doubt that he was indeed from the
Emerald Isle. “Come; let’s choose your weapon before we start with
the paperwork.” John said as he pushed open the door.
    The arsenal room was not much bigger than
John’s office. Its walls, however, were covered in every type of
weapon Brigit could ever have imagined existing.
    “Which would you recommend?” Brigit asked as
she eyed the assortment of clubs, staves, and walking sticks lain
out across a wide table to the left of the room. On the wall above
that, there were mourning